


Calm Amidst the Chaos

by MrsAlwaysWrite



Series: Currahee! [7]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst?, Comfort, Fluff and Humor, based on prompt, soft Speirs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsAlwaysWrite/pseuds/MrsAlwaysWrite
Summary: They lapsed back into silence, him loosely holding her as she massaged the back of his neck and carded her hand through his hair, foreheads still touching. Shouts could be heard outside, the occasional faint sound of a gun being fired, trucks rolling down the bumpy, muddy road. Outside was reality. Outside was their truth. Here in this moment though, they had the peace they both needed to keep going.
Relationships: Ronald Speirs/Original Female Character(s), Ronald Speirs/Reader
Series: Currahee! [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018627
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Calm Amidst the Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t usually write based on prompts but I found this one and couldn’t resist. Prompt is in bold in the story.  
> In this reader story, I used she/her instead of Y/N, otherwise there is no description of reader.  
> Please let me know what you think!

She stomped up the steps of Easy Company's HQ, the least damaged building in Haguenau, practically glowing with joy. Even the tall-tell whistling sound of a missile coming from the German line across the river could not dampen her spirits. Besides, it did not sound _that_ close. 

If she could carry a tune, she would have been singing like a canary in spring. For the first time in months she was clean. Actually clean! New ODs, a shower with warm water, and soap. Real goddamn soap to scrub away the dirt, grime, blood and sorrow from the time spent in the forests around Bastogne and Foy. Her stomach was full and she would be sleeping with a roof over her head tonight. It felt like heaven. 

Pushing the door open, she heard Captain Winters talking in the back room, most likely to Lieutenant Speirs, which meant Captain Nixon was also nearby. 

No one else was around to her surprise. She briefly wondered where Lipton was. Hopefully the man was actually resting in a bed somewhere. Lord knew he deserved it. 

With no one else around, she did not feel too bad snooping. 

A stack of large boxes against the far wall caught her eye and she went over to investigate. Luz must not have had a chance to distribute the stuff yet. She debated on if she should help him or purposefully hide the stuff to piss him off. It was a 50-50 chance which she preferred to do. She did owe him for that prank he pulled on her back in Holland. 

Flipping open one lid, she found packages of cigarettes, gum and Hershey's bars. If a few of each found their way into her pockets, who could blame her, right? There was a large box next to it that particularly held her interest. It took a bit of effort but she finally managed to get the lid off. Inside were several new Thompson sub-machine guns. 

She gave a low whistle. **"Oh, look at all the pretties!"**

**"Can you please stop talking about assault rifles the same way you talk about shoes?"**

She glanced over her shoulder at Nixon, who stood leaning against the door frame watching her with an amused look. 

"What? Every girl needs to have standards about the important things in life."

He laughed. "Shoes and guns, huh?"

She just shrugged as she closed the lid, making him laugh even harder. 

Winters and Speirs came out of the back room at that time, both curious at the commotion. 

Nixon spoke again to her. "Did you meet our West Pointer yet? Lieutenant Johnson. No, James?"

"Jones." Winters shook his head. 

"Ah right. Graduated on D-Day."

Speirs snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Yeah," she said, honestly she felt bad for Malark having to deal with him AND Webster but she did not want them in her own platoon. "Hopefully he doesn't get hurt."

"Hahaha. That's what I said." Nixon chuckled. 

Winters sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It will work out. Sink has high expectations of him."

"Course he does." Nixon took a swig out of his canteen that everyone knew only carried Vat 69. 

"Nix." Winters reprimanded, with said intelligence officer just waving him off. "We need to get those reports ready. Anything you need, Sergeant?" He asked looking at her. 

"No, sir."

"Good, good. Make sure your men get the new winter clothes that came in."

"Yes, sir." She tried to suppress the smile as Nixon dramatically rolled his eyes behind Winters before following his friend out. 

And then she was alone with Second Lieutenant Spiers. 

"Something you need, Sergeant?"

She shook her head again, now finally able to really look at the man. He looked tired, the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes emerging and his shoulders sagged more than normal. At least he had new ODs on and his hair looked damp still so he had showered recently. She could not help but wonder when he slept last for more than 2 or 3 hours. Especially with Lipton sick, she knew he was under more pressure and taking more responsibility. 

"How can I help, sir?"

He just stared out the window, fingers drumming on the desk he leaned against. 

"Ron...what can I do?"

It was hearing his name that broke him. She only ever used it when they were alone. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Before she could help herself, she moved to stand in front of him. One hand carded through his damp locks, straightening them from their messy look. Silently he pressed his forehead to hers. They stayed that way for several moments, sharing what strength and peace they could. 

She was not sure when whatever this was officially formed. There was the time he had knocked out a guy back in Toccoa that was harrassing her or trying to find safe places to sleep in the Netherlands or when Roe sent her to Dog Company to get medical supplies and she ended up spending most of the night in a foxhole with Speirs during a bombing that made the Fourth of July look like amateur night. Somewhere over the years something has shifted between them. Not that either had dared to name it. There was a war to focus on after all. 

"What's going on?" She tried to coax out, keeping up her gentle touches.

"There's a patrol set for tonight. A prisoner snatch."

"Shit."

Of course, when all the men just wanted to enjoy being indoors and not getting constantly shelled, fucking regiment would order something like this. There was nothing that could be done. Orders were given and orders had to be followed. Even if everyone hated it. 

"How are you doing, Ron, and don't bullshit me, I know you too well for that."

He chuckled, lightly wrapping an arm around her waist. "I haven't killed anyone today."

"That's good. Have you threatened anyone though?"

Silence. 

"Well its a start, I guess." She gently massaged the back of his neck, earning a low groan from him. "What can I do? Have you slept lately? Can I get you something to eat?"

"You sound like my mother."

"I'm certain that woman is a saint to have put up with you for so...ow!" She gasped after he pinched her side. She teasingly swatted the back of his head but immediately went back to her ministrations. 

They lapsed back into silence, him loosely holding her as she massaged the back of his neck and carded her hand through his hair, foreheads still touching. Shouts could be heard outside, the occasional faint sound of a gun being fired, trucks rolling down the bumpy, muddy road. Outside was reality. Outside was their truth. Here in this moment though, they had the peace they both needed to keep going. 

The stomping of boots coming up the steps had both of them straightening and stepping away from one another. 

Some replacement walked in, rifle slung over his shoulder. "Sir, Winters wants you out front."

"Right. On your way."

The soldier saluted then turned around and left, the door slamming behind him. 

Speirs grabbed his helmet from off the nearby table and his rifle, already lighting a cigarette. He stopped and looked at her. "Sergeant, you can organize the new machine guns. See they are distributed evenly...Make sure one ends up in your platoon."

She smirked. "You sure know how to spoil a girl, sir."

He winked then stepped out, back into reality, back into war. 

Turning around, she placed her hands on her hips as she looked over the boxes. She certainly had no problems commandeering one of the pretties for herself. Personally she had always thought a new gun was better than a new pair of shoes. 


End file.
